


just a little crush (teenage hormones)

by SquishyCool



Series: in for a penny, in for a pound [2]
Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, F/M, Fantasizing, Fluff, Internal Monologue, Masturbation, Older Man/Younger Woman, One Shot, POV Beth Greene, Pre-Relationship, Prequel, Secret Crush, Some Humor, Teen Beth Greene, Teen Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:08:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23072965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquishyCool/pseuds/SquishyCool
Summary: Look, Beth barely evenknowsDaryl Dixon. She's seen him around the farm, they've exchanged brief formalities here and there... and yeah, okay. She's watched him working, all muscles and sweat, from her bedroom window. More than once.But she's pretty sure he doesn't even know her name.The mind of a teenage girl can be a very dirty place.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Series: in for a penny, in for a pound [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653958
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51





	just a little crush (teenage hormones)

**Author's Note:**

> _He did remember that, actually. But damn, he didn’t think she would have. If he recalled correctly, she was still a junior in high school. It had been winter time because he remembered how she was shivering whenever he finally pulled up. And he’d leant her his coat while he jumpstarted the car. She’d hugged him tight and given him a kiss on the cheek._
> 
> _That felt like a lifetime ago. She’d been all chubby cheeks, flat chest, ponytails, and dirty jeans. He’d gazed down at her cornflower blues and seen a naive teenaged girl, someone who probably looked at him like a dependable big brother._
> 
> I'm blaming **wallflow3r** for encouraging me to write it out and putting a bunch of really good ideas into my head.
> 
> So yeah, Beth is a junior in high school for this, definitely underage. But there's no smut and I didn't tag Underage or anything because, as we already know from ria, Daryl doesn't reciprocate any sort of feelings for her at this point.  
> This is just... mostly innocent fluff. ;) I thought it might make the rest of the series a little more interesting if we see this prequel from Beth's POV since I plan for the whole series to remain in Daryl's perspective. It might make _ria_ more interesting, too. Who knows.
> 
> I got a little carried away, but I hope y'all enjoy. :)

**just a little crush (teenage hormones)**

“Oh no—no no no, _c’mon_! Don’t do this to me!”

Beth slammed her hands on the steering wheel and let out a screech of frustration. She tried to turn the keys in the ignition, but the car wouldn’t come back to life. Every turn of the keys responded with silence. Not even the dome light would come on.

Piece of crap car. She hated this damn thing. It hadn’t broken down in two whole weeks so she’d become optimistic. Obviously that was a bad idea. She’d been telling her dad that it needed a new battery, but he kept forgetting or putting it off for later.

Now she was stuck on the side of the road with a completely dead battery in the coldest part of winter. _And_ the sun had gone down, which meant it was even colder. All she’d wanted was to get through the next few miles and back home. But apparently her car had other ideas.

And—dammit, she hadn’t even brought a coat. The inside of the car would be just as cold as the outside before too long.

“Just my luck,” she muttered to herself as she pulled out her phone and called her dad.

But he didn’t pick up. It went to voicemail, so she hung up and tried again. Still no answer. One more time, just for good measure. Voicemail again.

“Wow, Dad. What if I was _dying_ right now?” She mumbled as though her father could hear her. She couldn’t really be mad, though. It was rare that he didn’t answer her calls. He must be really busy. Either that or he forgot his phone in the kitchen again. Like he was prone to do.

With a sigh, she tapped on Shawn’s name in her Contacts list and put the phone back up to her ear. But he was terrible about remembering to charge his phone, and just as she’d expected, it went straight to voicemail. Next was Maggie.

But Maggie’s phone went straight to voicemail, too.

What the hell? Were they all having some kind of party without Beth or something? It was barely 8 pm, there was no way any of them were asleep. And hey, what if she actually _was_ dying out here? So much for being able to rely on family.

She called Patricia next. Finally, someone picked up. It was Otis.

“Hey, are you guys busy?” Beth asked.

“We’re in Atlanta for the night,” Otis explained. “Remember, we said we’d be spendin’ the weekend in the city?”

Double crap. “Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot.”

“What’s wrong, Beth? Is everythin’ alright? We can drive back if you need us—”

“No, no, it’s fine. I just couldn’t get a hold of Daddy. I’ll try him again, though. Have fun in the city, an’ tell Patricia I said hi!”

Well, so much for that.

Beth went back to scrolling through her Contacts list, wracking her brain for any and every person she could possibly call to come give her car a jump. Preferably someone that wouldn’t have to go out of their way. She hated being a burden like this and bothering other people, but she had no choice. Sure, she could walk the rest of the way home, but it was kind of a really long walk. And it was really cold. And she had no coat at all. _And_ she had a Biology test coming up on Monday that she absolutely could _not_ be sick for.

Her cousin, Arnold, was a no-go. He was in Savannah for an FFA event. She could probably call Jimmy and he would most likely answer and be willing to help her out, but… damn. That would be awkward. They literally just broke up last week, after all. She’d had a hard enough time avoiding him at school.

So that left… Rick Grimes? But he would have to drive over 30 minutes to reach her, and she really _really_ hated the idea of putting Mr. Grimes so far out of his way like that. Especially when she knew he’d have to haul not one, but _two_ kids out into the cold in order to come help her. And it was already past baby Judith’s bedtime.

With a groan and a growing knot of dread in her gut, she scrolled back up through her Contacts and put off calling Rick. Surely there was _someone_ else. Maybe someone who lived closer—wait.

Her eyes flicked over a name that she’d forgotten was in her phone: Daryl Dixon. He worked for her dad from time to time. Beth only had his number because Maggie had given it to her months and months ago. She’d never used it, though. Never had a reason to.

He lived close. Only about 15 or 20 minutes away, actually. And he definitely had a vehicle. A truck, if she remembered correctly. At least that’s what he was always driving whenever she saw him.

But would he be willing to help her out? He barely knew her, after all. He was more acquainted with Maggie and Shawn and their dad. Beth was pretty sure she hadn’t ever exchanged more than a dozen words with the guy. Though they were all kind words. He never scowled at her or anything, not like he did with a lot of people—in fact, he barely even looked at her at all. She wasn’t sure he’d even know who the hell she was if she suddenly called him up.

What other option did she have, though? Maybe he’d be willing to do her a favor. Or she could promise to throw him a few bucks for his trouble the next time she saw him.

Yeah. Okay. That might work. Hell, it was worth a shot.

_If_ he answered the phone, that is.

She tapped on his name with a hesitant thumb, then paused and stared down at his number. She suddenly felt too nervous to attempt calling him. She wasn’t necessarily nervous about calling someone she barely knew to beg a favor, though. It was more because…

Well, he was cute. Like, _really_ cute.

Not in a conventional way, like the guys on the posters that plastered her bedroom walls. Or even like Jimmy. Daryl was handsome in a rough ‘n tumble kinda way. She’d been seeing him around the farm since she was 13 years old and at first, she hadn’t given him so much as a second glance. He didn’t talk much, didn’t really make eye contact with anyone, never smiled. She had no idea whether he was actually _nice_ or not. For all she knew, he could be an obnoxious asshole like his older brother. But he always treated Hershel with respect, and Maggie had never said anything bad about him. And she had something bad to say about _everyone_.

But then Beth had started looking at him one day. _Really_ looking at him. Around the time she was 14. That day she and Maggie had driven out to the cabin that he shared with his brother, and Beth had seen him come out onto the porch in nothing but sweatpants and a white wifebeater. She vividly remembered being taken aback by the fluttering in her tummy and the twinge between her legs when he walked up and rested his elbows on the edge of the open passenger side window of Maggie’s truck. He smelled… _really good_. Like sweat and cigarettes and soap from a recent shower. His hair had still been pretty short back then, damp with water and clinging to his forehead. And she’d been struck silent, sitting and staring at him in a whole new light. She wasn’t sure why. Probably just those “teenage hormones” her daddy was always going on about. But from then on, she’d liked what she saw.

He was way too damn old for her, obviously. And she’d never been the type to crush on older men. Not even when she got a new PE teacher in eighth grade and all her classmates spent the whole year fawning over how “hot” he was, lamenting sadly that he was married—as if that mattered. Even when it came to celebrity crushes, she couldn’t find much to lust over when it came to men over 30.

But Daryl was _different_. Why? She had no friggin’ clue. He just was. There was something about him that she couldn’t quite put her finger on (though she thought she might like to try someday—just kidding, that would never happen). Looking at him gave her butterflies that she’d never quite experienced before.

Once you got past the rough exterior and the fact that he was sweaty and stained with something-or-other at pretty much all times, he was actually really attractive. The handful of times she’d gotten close enough to look him in the face, she noticed that he had beautiful eyes. They were as blue as the ocean, shimmering like saltwater in the sunlight. And when he dared allow himself to smirk, it was a _cute_ smirk. She’d spent many an afternoon gazing down at him from her bedroom window or from her spot on the porch while he worked, watching the muscles in his back flex beneath his sleeveless shirt, studying the slowly growing circumference of his biceps, the corded curves of his neck and… that butt… She’d never been the type to care about boys’ butts (unless they were in baseball or football uniforms), but Daryl had a pretty nice butt. Not that she’d ever, _ever_ admit that aloud. To _anyone_.

But secretly… yeah. Daryl Dixon was pretty damn hot. Hell, he was downright fuckable. She couldn’t say she hadn’t thought—just once or twice, _no big deal_ —what he might look like without a shirt. Or pants. Or, ya know. Whatever.

But it was just a little crush. He was eye candy, nothing more. She didn’t even know him well enough to actually like, _like_ him. So really, it was barely even what could be considered a real “crush.”

Stupid teenage hormones.

Seriously, though. It was nerve-wracking having to call someone she’d only really admired from afar. He probably didn’t even know she existed. She was half-expecting him to mix her up with Maggie, like most people did. Somehow, everyone always forgot that there was a _second_ Greene girl.

Regardless, she had no choice. She’d just have to suck it up and hope he didn’t think she was a total helpless moron. Or maybe that he wouldn’t answer at all. 

She forced her finger to tap the screen and call Daryl. Then she put the phone to her ear, heart thumping nervously.

To her surprise, he picked up on the third ring.

“Y’ello?” His voice was deep and throaty in her ear, barely more than a growl.

She wasn’t sure if he was irritated or if that’s just what he always sounded like. Either way, it made her even more nervous and she struggled not to stammer.

“Hey, this is Beth—um, Beth Greene,” she said. “Hershel’s youngest daughter…?”

Daryl grunted through the phone. “Oh yeah. ‘S goin’ on? Yer dad okay?”

“Yeah, no he’s fine,” she quickly assured. “I jus’—well, I can’t get a hold of him. Or Maggie. Or Shawn. Or anybody. An’ I hate to bother you, but I know you live kinda close by, so—”

“Whatcha need, girl?”

Oh. Well, alright. To the point then.

“My car died. I’m like ten miles from my house and I kinda… forgot my coat. So I can’t walk. I really hate to ask, but if you’re not like, super busy or anything, I was wonderin’—“

“So ya need a jump? Or a ride home?”

Her heart skipped. Really? Just like that? Okay. Maybe he wasn’t nearly as standoffish as she’d taken him to be. Guess that’s what she got for judging a book by its cover. And its antisocial behavior.

“Just a jump. If you could. If you’re not home, though, I can—“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Where ya at?”

He didn’t even wanna hear her profuse apologies. He was just… ready to help. No questions asked.

That was a nice surprise.

“About ten miles southeast of the farm. I think I’m on J Road, by that one pond with the big willow tree.”

“Oh yeah. I know where that’s at. Gimme fifteen minutes.”

“Oh my god, thank you _so_ much. I promise I’ll pay you back, I can have my dad give you some money or somethin’.”

“Nah. ‘S all good. Keep yer doors shut, there’s a pack of mean-lookin’ coyotes been stalkin’ ‘round there lately. See ya soon.”

“Oh, I—“

But the phone beeped loudly in her ear, signaling that he’d hung up.

Well. At least she knew he was on his way. Although she could’ve gone without knowing about the coyotes.

* * *

Beth spent the next 16 minutes scrolling through social media on her phone and glancing warily out the windows, ears perked for the sounds of animals. But she seemed to be completely alone in the darkness, huddling in the car and wishing she’d brought her damn coat. The cold was seeping into the interior faster than she’d expected and all she had was a lightweight long-sleeve tee, jeans, and boots. She hadn’t even brought her hat. Stupid. To be fair, though, she’d planned on spending very little time outside the vicinity of a heater.

True to his word, Daryl showed up exactly 17 minutes after their call ended. Relief flooded through her system when she heard the quiet rumble of a truck approaching from down the road, and then a pair of bright headlights were cutting through the darkness and cresting the hill up ahead. An old blue Chevy pickup slowed and rolled up directly in front of her, and she couldn’t help but grin when she saw a familiar arm hanging out the window.

She popped the hood and got out of the car as soon as he stopped, shutting the door behind her and watching as he climbed out of the truck. He looked different than the last time she’d seen him—probably because he was wearing something with sleeves for once, and his hair was starting to grow out and get darker. He’d also let his facial hair fill out a bit more, the goatee on his chin more prominent and a layer of scruff shadowing his jaw. But he still had that same old discontented look on his face.

At this point, she was starting to think he had the male version of Resting Bitch Face. Or maybe he was irritated that he had to drive out in the cold and help her. He could’ve said no, though… 

“This happen a lot?” He asked, offering her a curt nod of greeting before he turned and retrieved a set of jumper cables from the bed of his truck.

“Kinda,” she admitted, wrapping her arms around herself in an effort to fight off the biting cold. She squinted against the headlights glaring in her face. “I’ve been tellin’ my dad it needs a new battery, but he keeps puttin’ it off. I think he forgot.”

Daryl grunted, stepping out in front of the headlights and approaching the front of her car with cables in hand. The glow illuminated him from behind like some kind of angel. “I’ll remind ‘im next time I see him. Think this’s a pretty good sign it needs ta be replaced sooner rather’an later.”

Beth smiled. “Yeah, I think so, too. Thanks.”

She stayed close to the driver side door, watching as he lifted the hood and connected the cables.

“Where’s he at, anyhow? Shouldn’t he be out here doin’ this?”

Her smile faltered and the guilt began to settle in her stomach uncomfortably. “Yeah, he should be, but I dunno where he is. He prob’ly doesn’t have his phone on him. I tried ta call Maggie an’ Shawn too, but they didn’t answer. Startin’ ta think they’re all doin’ somethin’ without me.” She huffed out a breath of amusement.

But Daryl just shrugged and finished what he was doing. “Maybe.”

“I’m really sorry for callin’ you. I didn’t mean ta put you outta yer way or nothin’, I just honestly didn’t have anybody else to call. Except Rick, I guess.”

“Nah. ‘S too long of a drive fer him this time a night. Ain’t a big deal. I wasn’t doin’ nothin’ important.”

She wasn’t sure if that was sarcasm or not, but she chose not to interpret it as such.

“Well, I really appreciate it,” she insisted, watching as he stepped away and began to retrieve the other ends of the jumper cables.

She hadn’t realized it, but she was shivering, arms wrapped tightly around herself and getting tighter. Daryl happened to glance over her as he turned and he stopped, furrowing his brow. He paused what he was doing and gestured toward the general area of her body.

“Where’s yer damn coat, girl? Gon’ catch yer death of a cold out here in that thin-ass shirt.”

Beth shrugged and tried to stifle her shivering, offering a small smile of embarrassment. “I was dumb an’ left my coat at home. I didn’t think I’d actually be out in the cold.”

He grumbled something under his breath and the next thing she knew, he was approaching her and slipping off his coat. Then he was a foot away, holding it out for her to take. She stared back at him quizzically.

“G’on, put it on,” he instructed. “Can’t be lettin’ ya freeze yer little butt off out here. Ain’t got no damn meat on yer bones, prob’ly halfway to pneumonia by now.”

Without question, she reached out and took the coat from his grasp, throwing it over her shoulders and wrapping herself up in its warmth. It was about four sizes too big, but it was fleece-lined and already warm from his body heat. And it smelled like him—a strangely intoxicating musk of sweat and grease and cigarettes and manly body odor and… just _Daryl_. 

Crap. He smelled just as good as he looked.

Stupid teenage hormones… 

“Thank you,” she smiled wider, staring up at him with gratitude.

He merely shrugged it off and grunted indifferently, turning away and locating the jumper cables so he could hook them up to his truck.

She felt bad for accepting his coat at first, thinking herself selfish as she huddled in the warmth while he worked in the cold. But then she watched him move around swiftly and smoothly, and took note of how he was seemingly unaffected by the cold despite his lack of sleeves. Maybe he didn’t really care and it was just common courtesy in his mind.

Nonetheless, it was a kind gesture. Gentlemanly, in fact. Just as kind as driving all the way out here to jumpstart her piece of crap old car. 

Damn. Daryl Dixon was a _really_ nice guy. 

Just like that, the fluttering reappeared in her stomach. And with it, the uninvited twinge between her legs. A smile was plastered to her face and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his back, watching every muscle in his upper arms tense and relax and flex as he worked. She was quickly reminded of her little crush, all those afternoons spent admiring him from afar.

She inhaled a deep breath of the scent that was currently encompassing her, hugging his coat a little tighter against her body. Maybe it should’ve been _gross_ that she could detect the faintest hint of body odor…? But it wasn’t. In the weirdest way possible, it was kind of… _really nice_. It made her head spin and tugged the corners of her mouth further upward. It made the back of her neck heat up—though not nearly as hot as the spot between her thighs. It made suggestive images pop into her mind, things she didn’t want to think about because they felt dirty and inappropriate and almost perverse. Yet she couldn’t help it. Something deep within her craved _more_ , in the most instinctual manner possible.

Was this like, the pheromones or whatever? Did they apply to humans the same as they applied to animals? She couldn’t be sure. But she _really_ liked the way Daryl smelled.

“A’right, get in an’ start it up,” he instructed.

Beth blinked, snapping back to reality. Daryl was looking at her expectantly and she realized he’d finished hooking up the cables and was standing with his hand on the door of his pickup, prepared to get inside and gas the engine. He was just waiting on her.

She nodded wordlessly, turning away as her face went red—thank God it was night time and he couldn’t see her blushing in the headlights of his truck. She got back into her car and turned the key in the ignition.

A few minutes and a half-dozen tries later, her beat-up little vehicle finally came back to life. Once they were certain that it wasn’t going to die again before she could get home, they climbed out of their respective seats. Beth remained near her door while Daryl went about disconnecting the cables and tossing them into the bed of his pickup, carefully lowering the hoods of both their vehicles. She’d already turned the heater on inside her car, hoping for a relatively warm drive home.

“Should be good ta make it home now,” he declared, his boots crunching across the dirt and rocks as he approached her. “But I can follow ya back if ya want. Just in case.”

Beth found herself staring up into ocean blue eyes. And he was so close that she couldn’t tell if his musky scent was coming from the coat or his body. Her knees went weak.

_And then what?_ She wanted to say. That was stupid, though. So she bit her tongue.

She could never, _ever_ be so bold.

Besides, he was _way_ too old for her. She wasn’t even legal. She was “jailbait.” That’s what she’d heard Merle Dixon refer to her as a few months back. It had earned him a punch in the mouth from Maggie, of course. Though he was so drunk, Beth was pretty sure he didn’t even remember making the comment in the first place. Let alone getting hit for it. Daryl wasn’t there to witness it, yet Beth couldn’t help but wonder whether he would’ve agreed with his brother or not.

She smiled up at him. “No, that’s okay. You should go home. Y’already helped me out way too much tonight. Thanks, Mr. Dixon.”

He grunted and frowned. “Don’t call me that. Jus’ Daryl.”

She nodded in understanding, quirking a brow. “Thanks, _Daryl_.”

He shrugged and shifted his weight from one foot to the other almost awkwardly. Her stomach fluttered, intensifying when his deep voice poured out. “Ain’t nothin’. Told ya I didn’t have anythin’ better to do. ‘M not gonna let a Greene girl walk home ten miles in the middle of fuckin’ winter.”

Beth’s smile widened at that. So it really _hadn’t_ been sarcasm. He just genuinely wanted to help.

Crap. Daryl Dixon was… well, he was a _good man_. Period. Her daddy had been right. And now she saw why Maggie never had anything bad to say about Merle’s younger brother. He was just a rough-around-the-edges kinda guy. Unapproachable from the outside, but all kind and soft on the inside.

She liked that. She _really_ liked that. No wonder she’d thought he was cute. She’d always been a good judge of character, and this was no different. She’d seen the underlying good that resided within him. And now she was experiencing it first-hand. 

Ugh. She wanted to _kiss_ him. Not only had he saved her from walking ten miles home in the dead of winter, or sitting in a freezing car for hours while she waited for her family to answer their phones, but he’d gone even farther out of his way in order to assure she was warm and comfortable. And _safe_.

But she couldn’t kiss him. Obviously. Not like she _really_ wanted to.

So instead, with a courage that she never knew she possessed, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his middle, closing the distance between them for a few long seconds. She momentarily rested her head on his chest—his strong, broad, oh-so- _warm_ chest—and squeezed her arms around him in a hug.

Oh hell, he smelled even better up close and all hot with life. She had to fight back the knot in her throat.

He tensed up at the contact and his hands came up to awkwardly cup her elbows. Then she raised her head and looked up at him.

“Thank you, Daryl,” she said. “You’re really sweet.”

He was gazing back down at her, a baffled expression on his face. And she could see it in his eyes, in the tense set of his jaw: he was looking at her like a little sister. Like the daughter of a long-time employer. Like the youngest sibling of a familiar acquaintance. Like… jailbait.

Nevertheless, her stomach tightened up into a knot of flapping butterfly wings and squirming caterpillars. His eyes were so fucking blue. Holy _crap_. He was _so. hot_!

But there was a spot—right there on his cheek, just above the scruff of his beard and below his high cheekbone. And before she could hesitate or second-guess it or stop herself, she was leaning up on tiptoes and planting a kiss on that spot. She let her lips linger for a heartbeat. Then two. Then three. Then she pulled away and returned to flat feet, her arms still loosely wrapped around his middle, and looked up at him with a crooked smile. Desperately hoping that her cheeks hadn’t bloomed full red yet.

He appeared nothing less than bewildered. His hands released her elbows and he stepped back, clearing his throat loudly. Were his ears turning pink? She couldn’t be sure in the yellow glow of headlights.

He jerked his chin towards her. “‘S not a big deal,” he muttered awkwardly. “Best get goin’ home now, Greene.”

She gave him a playful smile and began to shrug off the coat. “That’s the plan. I shoulda been home half an hour ago.” She handed it back over to him and he grabbed it up quickly, taking another step back. “I really can’t thank you enough,” she reiterated.

“Y’already did,” he mumbled. “‘Bout twenty times now.”

She rolled her eyes and teased, “Sorry fer bein’ _grateful_.”

He grunted. Was that a sound of amusement or annoyance? She couldn’t be sure. But she was probably just bugging him now. He obviously wanted to leave. She’d bothered him enough for one night.

“Okay, smartass,” he remarked. And she saw a little smirk playing across his lips before he turned and strode back to his truck. “See ya around, Beth.”

Oh. He’d remembered her name. He hadn’t called her Maggie. Or Greene.

She hollered after him, grinning, “Thanks again, Daryl!”

He waved her off over his shoulder, but she knew he was still smirking when he climbed into his truck.

* * *

Beth couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl freaking Dixon for the rest of the night.

It was so silly. So stupid. So… _teenager_. But dammit, she’d gone from thinking he was nice to look at and hypothetically fuckable, to downright _crushing_ on him. _Hard_.

He wasn’t just good-looking. He was really nice, too. In his own gruff way.

And yeah, it was dumb. So, so dumb. He would never _ever_ look at her like that. She was way too young for him. Way too off-limits. Probably not even his type. He seemed like the kind of guy who would go after fully-blossomed women with big breasts and tiny waists and high cheekbones. Though she’d never seen him with a woman, and he’d never mentioned any sort of girlfriend or anything like that. But he was probably like his brother in that sense, and from what Beth had heard about Merle Dixon, womanizing was what he did best. He didn’t settle down and didn’t do the “dating” thing. She’d heard Shawn refer to it as _“wham, bam, thank you ma’am.”_ Gross. But it wouldn’t really surprise her if that was Daryl’s mindset.

Not that it mattered. At all. Even if she didn’t have chubby cheeks and no breasts to speak of and an ass flatter than a board, he didn’t seem the type to go after a teenager. Which was a _good_ thing—and if he really _was_ a good man, then he wouldn’t be looking at an underage girl with anything other than platonic feelings. Maggie had drilled that into Beth’s head ever since sixth grade: _“Any guy over twenty who wants to date a teenager is a pervert and a predator and you’d better stay the hell away from ‘em.”_

Big 10-4 on that one.

Beth wasn’t stupid enough to think someone like Daryl would ever give a girl half his age so much as a second glance, anyhow. He was just nice. Helpful. Willing to lend a hand to someone in need. Especially when that someone was a Greene.

But damn, can’t a girl dream? It wasn’t like she’d ever actually _do_ anything about her little crush. She just wanted to… enjoy it a little. She wanted to entertain herself for a bit with ridiculous fantasies.

Ridiculously _dirty_ fantasies. 

She couldn’t help it! Her stupid, _stupid_ teenage hormones were taking over. And two hours after she’d watched Daryl drive away, she was lying in bed in the dark, scrolling through her phone. Searching for any and every trace of Daryl Dixon that social media might have to offer. A glimpse into his life, a few photos, whatever she could find.

What did he do when he wasn’t working odd jobs for her dad? Did he have a girlfriend? A friend with benefits? Maybe he was gay and she hadn’t heard? She was so damn curious. She just wanted to know more about him.

She went to Instagram and searched for him—at first by name, and when no results came up, she searched through the Followers lists of every mutual friend she could think of. But she finally concluded that he didn’t have Instagram. Which wasn’t exactly surprising. So she moved onto Facebook next. He was older, and most older people still frequented Facebook from what she’d seen. Maggie had one, as did Tara and Rosita and Carol, and Rick definitely had one. Even Hershel was on Facebook. Merle had 5—he kept forgetting his password and creating new profiles. But Daryl Dixon was nowhere to be found, not even in any of his brother’s Friends lists. Okay, not terribly shocking. There was one last possibility, though. She opened Snapchat and went to the Add Friend feature, checking the section that told her which of the people saved in her phone’s Contacts had Snapchats connected to their numbers. There were several people that she hadn’t bothered to add, but Daryl wasn’t one of them. So he didn’t have Snapchat either.

Damn. That sucked. He was a strict call-or-text kinda guy. She should’ve known that was the case, but she’d still been a little hopeful. And there was only one photo posted amongst all 5 of Merle’s Facebook profiles that included Daryl’s presence, and it was a vague picture of the two brothers fishing at a pond. Daryl’s back was towards the camera, but Beth recognized him by his hair and the shape of his form and… well, those _arms_. And that butt. And… 

Yeah. She was nearly friggin’ infatuated. How had it developed so damn quickly? Three hours ago, he’d been nothing more than eye candy. A quiet little crush on an acquaintance. Someone she was hesitant to contact, but not terribly self-conscious about seeing. Now she was searching through social media for anything she could find, continuously replaying their brief interaction over and over in her head, wondering if she’d made a fool of herself.

Holy crap. She’d hugged him. She’d _kissed_ him on the _cheek_ …! Where had she gotten the guts to do such a thing? She still couldn’t figure it out.

She was almost embarrassed—maybe he thought she was weird for thanking him like that. But at the same time, she was glad she did.

She hadn’t even taken off her long-sleeve shirt yet. Because his scent still lingered on the fabric, and when she held it up to her nose, she could inhale a deep breath of _Daryl_. The coat he’d leant her. The three heartbeats she’d spent with the side of her face literally pressed against him. It was absolutely intoxicating.

Oh god, she _liked_ him. She really, _really_ liked him.

She wanted to… well, she wanted to do _a lot_ of things. With him. And _to_ him.

When would she even see him next? She had no idea. He’d been coming around less and less often this year. She’d heard he got a job at the tire shop in town. That was good. But hell, she was kinda wishing he’d come back and work for her dad again. Just so she could watch him from the porch. Just so she could have the opportunity to make some kind of flirty move.

Maybe she’d approach him with a refreshing glass of lemonade in the middle of a hot day. Maybe she’d wear her cut-off shorts, the ones that Shawn always said were “too damn short.” Maybe she’d go braless and pretend not to notice. Maybe she’d bat her eyelashes and sway her hips.

Most likely not, though. If he was working at the tire shop, he was probably making more money. And she was guessing he had plans to move out of that cabin he shared with Merle. So maybe he’d move into town, farther away from the farm. Maybe she wouldn’t ever be able to watch him work from her window or the porch again. That would suck.

Or maybe someday, after she was older and a little more filled-out, they’d cross paths again. Maybe he’d still be somewhere around Senoia. Maybe someone would finally convince him to join social media—and the rest of modern society—and he’d be easier to contact. Maybe she’d be more confident, more _experienced_ , more… _his type_ of woman.

Would she still have a crush on him by then? She couldn’t really imagine ever _not_ crushing on him after tonight. But she also knew that feelings tended to change with age—at least, that’s what Maggie claimed. Maybe one day, she’d forget him entirely.

That didn’t feel likely, though.

Even if they did somehow run into one another years down the line, who was to say he’d remember her? And if he did, what if he was incapable of seeing her as anything other than the youngest Greene girl? What if he saw her as off-limits and jailbait forever? Or what if he just plain _couldn’t_ see her that way after knowing her since she was 13 years old?

None of that mattered. She was doing nothing more than fantasizing about a hot older guy because he’d been nice to her.

It was just a little crush. She’d fawn over him for a bit and then she’d get over it. That was always how it went.

But that didn’t stop her from imagining his big, strong arms wrapped around her as she slipped a hand beneath her panties. And while she touched herself, swallowing back little moans of pleasure that wanted to escape her lips, she pictured Daryl on top of her. His face between her legs. His bare chest pressed against hers. His shaggy hair tangled around her fingers. She wondered how big his dick was, and when she imagined it, she pictured him with a jutting, girthy length popping up through the slit of his boxers. Yeah—he seemed like a boxers kind of guy. Or a commando kind of guy. Did he even wear _anything_ beneath those jeans…? And what kind of sounds did he make while his hips thrust in and out of a wet pussy?

Daryl’s deep voice echoed inside Beth’s head as she imagined him whispering dirty things in her ear; she imagined his weight atop her body, his scruffy face against her neck, his cock inside of her and his hands cupping her breasts. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her breath was coming in short gasps. She pictured him thrusting into her and orgasmed quietly to the image in her mind.

It wouldn’t be the last time she pictured him while getting herself off in the privacy of her own bed.

That was okay, though. It was her own little personal fantasy. A private crush. No one ever had to know. Least of all Daryl.

She could secretly fantasize about him, about what might happen if she were to ever actually blossom into a desirable woman, about how he might react if they happened to cross paths somehow down the road. But at the end of the day, she knew it was all just fantasies. Wishful thinking at best.

No harm in that. It wasn’t like she’d ever _act_ on any of it. No matter how much she managed to bloom or change, there was no way she’d ever be _that_ gutsy. And he’d never give her a second glance. He’d never look at her _like that_.

She was just a horny teenaged girl. She was going through a phase. Hormones and repressed sexual energy and whatnot.

It was just a little crush.

**the end**

**Author's Note:**

> Moral of the story: Dreams really do come true. <3


End file.
